


Little Theondra

by americanithink



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Female Ramsay Bolton, Female Robb Stark, Female Theon Greyjoy, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Theon Greyjoy-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanithink/pseuds/americanithink
Summary: Scenes through Theondra’s life. Some nice, some not so nice.Ch1: An Introduction to the AUCh2: Theondra and Robbyn at a celebratory feastCh3: Ramsey Snow and her Reek[All parents are assumed to be their original, respective genders.]
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Kudos: 10





	1. The New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction of sorts.  
>  _(characters appear in chapter 2)_

Gender did not defy who a person could be or what a person did. Women across the world would take part in wars and become leaders. But it actually happening was still fairly rare in some places compared to others. Some houses and regions were more supportive of this equality, though all did not find it laughable or implausible to happen. 

The North and the Starks were some of the most progressive of the time. So when Robbyn required support to lead the North and pursue the Iron Throne, many followed without doubt. And when Balon Greyjoy sent his eight-year-old daughter into war, no one blinked an eye.

During a fight or war, women soldiers would wear the typical armor and proper gear. But if they were just going about their day or practicing, they would often wear dresses; most women preferred to wear trousers while practicing their swordsmanship. However, usually higher born women training or trained for combat carried a sword while going about their every day. 

Across the three discovered continents of the world, Westeros, Essos, and Sothoryos, women were welcomed and even encouraged to fight for their cause. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I kinda wrote this fic by accident. It started with me just typing out some ideas for a friend, but then it was actually developing out of just a dabble.  
> So in other words, I have no plans for this fic besides 2 stories (Which I should be posting soon). So if you have any ideas or anything that you'd like me to write, don't be shy to comment! I am very open-minded (I just won't write heavy smut).  
> Oh, and if you have a name for one of the characters that you think is better, let me know!


	2. Robbyn And Theondra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Before the Horizontal Line:** On Robbyn and Theondra's friendship and appearances.  
>  **After the Horizontal Line:** Robbyn and Theondra enjoy a celebration of thanks.

The Stark family gave Theondra an easy life. She was never treated cruelly despite it being understood she was a ward, not a prisoner, only because of Ned’s kind heart. And though she budded heads with Ned’s bastard and could be described as quick-tempered, she was never told to stay silent. Theondra would be praised for good work, just as any of the Stark children would’ve been.

Theondra loved the Starks, and she believed they loved her in return. She was grateful to be alive and in Winterfell, but that didn’t mean she forgot the island she was born to. And that didn’t mean Theondra seldom daydreamed of going back to the sea and sailing to what remained of the Greyjoy name. There was one reason she stayed in place all those years without a complaint and her name was Robbyn, heir to Ned Stark.

Theondra had spent minutes that added into hours looking at Robbyn’s soft yet serious features. Robbyn was a woman born for the north; she resembled the feeling of autumn turning to winter. On the other end, Theondra was no doubt a woman born by the sea. Despite the time spent living in Winterfell and having only been on the Iron Islands for 8 years, anyone could tell where Theondra was from. She had a careless confidence, something most would say was unearned, and could be quite unforgiving― much like the ocean.

The two knew each other better than anyone else. Their flaws, their insecurities, their passions, everything held dear to either would be eventually shared with the other. Whether it would be through simply observing each other or having it be spoken. Getting to know Robbyn’s lighthearted side was a gift and to spend late nights alone with her was an honor. Theondra knew no one would ever understand her as well as her dear friend Robbyn. This comforted yet scared her.

While Robbyn had dark hair with a slight wave, Theondra’s was colored strawberry blonde with a natural curl to it. Oftentimes, Lady Stark would fix her hair in a braid to assure it would be out of her view. And every time, without an exception, a shorter strand would escape and fall in front of her face. The first few times this happened, Theondra would wait and expect Robbyn to fix it herself. But once many hours passed, and the strand was still hanging, Theondra took it upon herself to help.

When she did so, Robbyn laughed and said, “I didn’t even notice. How long has it been like that?”

“Just a few minutes,” she lied. 

After that, Theondra made it her duty to push it back or use an extra pin to keep it in place. She didn’t mind though. The two ladies enjoyed playing with each other's hair when given the chance. 

And though Theondra saw the benefits of braids, she still preferred how loose hanging hair framed her face. She was always one for beauty over comfort. Pinning front pieces of hair back proved to be her choice whenever she used a sword at all and only sometimes during archery.   
Though they presented themselves differently through hairstyles, their clothing choices were always similar. Despite this, Theondra knew somehow Robbyn constantly looked better. She swore to herself that Robbyn could make anything look nice and pleasant if she wore it.  
Regardless of Theondra’s hidden jealousy, she still loved Robbyn and often tried to aid her in any way she could. 

The two spent their years staying close and sharing secrets. Also, enjoying making comments to one another that would surely be deemed crude. Such interactions would typically be initiated by the young Greyjoy to the Stark. Most often being Theondra pointing out who she had slept with if they were any good, and who she lusted for. The comments would often come so randomly that they would throw Robbyn off and make her laugh. When this happened, the pair would usually have to stifle their giggles quickly before people stared. And though Robbyn was no virgin, she always found Theondra’s stories fascinating to listen to. They both agreed a long time ago that she somehow always attracted the weirdest sexual partners.

Robbyn Stark and Theondra Greyjoy were close as any two people could be. At least they both thought so. 

* * *

It was a night of celebration, a feast for everyone to thank the gods for everything that had been granted. The band’s music played through the hall, many people dancing to show gratitude. 

Theondra and Robbyn stayed by each other, getting drunk and enjoying the attention of many male suitors. The two were young and happy, thinking death couldn’t reach them.

All night, they flirted and giggled at inside jokes no one else understood. Though Theondra was enjoying herself, she couldn’t help but watch as the Stark children interacted. They would tease and play tricks on one another. Even when one looked genuinely mad, it was understood the anger would pass and love would remain. 

Has she had anyone in her life like that? Who could become mad at her but forgive without an apology needed? Theondra didn’t remember much from her years on the Iron Islands, but she remembers her siblings were much more cruel than the Starks were to each other. 

In the midst of the celebration, Theondra's drunken mind turned on her. Anxiety of not being loved slowly kept into her mind. She was surrounded by adoring men, but none of which really loved her. And she was beside her reasoning, Robbyn, who surely would never entertain the idea of falling in love with her father’s ward. 

Though Theondra’s mind was spiralling out of control, she sustained to laugh and smile at the dumb jokes she heard around her. And she continued to glance at Robbyn as an anchor. 

Theondra noticed one of Robbyn's younger siblings come up to tug on her gown before whispering in her ear. Robbyn nodded and announced, “I have to go say a prayer with my family.” Then she looked at Theondra and said, “I’ll be right back.” 

Being left alone with strangers in this state of mind made Theondra prefer isolation. Though she waited a few minutes, the prayers of thanks took longer than normal prayers, she decided walking outside was best. She knew Robbyn would understand. 

Theondra left behind who she was with without a word, she stepped outside and stared out at the empty courtyard. She thought about her father and wondered if he ever thought of her. Theondra was alone with her feelings for what seemed like an hour to a drunken mind when she heard her name called. When she turned, she saw Robbyn standing with two glasses. 

“What are you doing out here?” she laughed, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk enough to be sneaking off to meet some boy yet!” 

Theondra put on a smile, “We both know I don’t have to be drunk to do that.”

“Having too much wine would be the only excuse I’d take if I was to find you left this early,” Robbyn walked to Theondra and offered her a glass, “Drink with me.”

The two tapped their glasses together before downing the drinks, a tradition they made from a story neither remembered the same. 

They continued to stand there even after they stopped laughing from the disgusting, drowning feeling of chugging a whole glass. Robbyn was staring at Theondra, who was staring anywhere else. She knew that expression; she knew it far too well. Robbyn was the only person Theondra ever willingly shared her longing for the sea to, her desire to be with others who shared her name. There would always be this distant look in her eyes when she felt alone. 

Robbyn grabbed Theondra’s hand and guided her out of the courtyard, away from the party. 

“Where are we going?”

“Close your eyes. It’s a surprise,” Robbyn demanded in an amused tone. 

“You’re going to kill me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” then in a drunken whisper, “So you could fuck every angel in the heavens. Mortal boys will never be enough for you, huh?” 

By the time Theondra was allowed to open her eyes, all she noticed was the woods and the fact they were outside the walls. 

“Robbyn,” she looked over to see her friend was staring up at the sky. When she followed her gaze, Theondra knew exactly where they were. They stared up at the night sky, admiring the stars and the moon. No words were spoken until Robbyn laid down on the ground. 

“We used to come here so often. Just us,” she paused, “before we even knew boys could be attractive.”

It was the place they would sneak off to at night. Where things could be confessed and not follow them back to Winterfell. Their deepest secrets were often shared in this clearing, secrets never spoken of again. They stopped needing to go there for privacy once they both reached a certain age, and Ned stopped ordering for handmaids to follow them.

“Yeah, I know where we are,” Theondra laid down beside her friend. 

They stayed there for longer than Robbyn planned, but she didn’t mind. She had her fill of wine and the men waiting for them were unimpressive. 

“Thank you,” Theondra finally said.

They looked at each other, a second passing of just their eyes meeting and their hearts racing. 

Robbyn smiled, “You would have done the same.”

Theondra looked back at the moon, wondering if that statement was true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Once again, if you have any suggestions please send them my way! Not all the Stark kids/characters are gender-swapped. So there is a lot of room for ideas. [I am not judgmental and pretty open minded! Just no heavy smut suggestions, please.]  
> I have two more stories planned, both including Ramsey.


	3. Ramsey and Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsey Snow's introduction. Reek's creation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important:** Time lines and how things play out don’t fully line up with the source material. But hey, it's fanfiction. If you wanted canon you wouldn’t be here.

Roose Bolton raped a woman. An action he didn’t think much about, it was a moment in time where he craved so he took. Nothing was to come of it. Months followed, and the woman went forgotten. That all changed when the same lady approached him with a child. His child, his bastard. A baby girl conceived through the violation of the poor, pathetic woman’s body.

Lord Bolton took the baby in and had her raised at Dreadfort as his bastard. An action that would lead to both amazing successes and great downfalls.

The child was named Ramsey Snow. And though Roose did not neglect her, he failed to be nurturing or show any compassion. Did he love the girl? If she proved to be useful. His love stood conditional, like Roose’s father’s had been.

Ramsey grew up being known across as the Beautiful Bastard of Bolton. With her icy blue eyes, fair skin, and sly smile, even at a young age everyone agreed what a lovely bride Lady Snow would make. People thought of her in pity, knowing a bastard child, beautiful or not, could never help her father’s name. Ramsey didn’t listened to these statements; beauty meant nothing to her, and she knew she could prove her worth.

As Ramsey grew, so did her interest. Her early teen years were when the talk of her beauty switched to gossip over what she did in her spare time. Ramsey was once known as a child who “accidentally” played too roughly with her friends and smiled an apology. But she turned into a young lady skinning living rabbits, then claiming she didn’t while still covered in blood. Despite her fingernails always having suspicious dirt and gore under them, some still believed in her innocence.

For those who didn’t know her, it was easy to think Lady Snow was having ill rumors spread of her name for the sake of dishonoring the bastard even further. But her father and servants knew what she was capable of. It wasn’t hard for people who had been with her for years to know what she got up to in her private time. 

Ramsey used mocking tones designed to belittle those she spoke to. She abused servants and made their lives hell, all while smiling. And when Ramsey snuck off to the dungeons at night, the next day those previously untouched would be found severely tortured. Most were dead or practically. Roose pretended he didn’t know of this until one victim somehow had the strength the next morning to say his last words, “The bastard.” After that, the known secret had been confirmed. Ramsey Snow was born a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Ramsey was eventually taught how to properly flay. She discovered it was ever different from skinning a beast, and she also learned to flay prisoners was much more fun. With rabbits and rodents, you cannot hear them beg, and only sometimes you could see fear in their beady eyes. Their cries were nice but left Ramsey feeling unsatisfied. With people, Ramsey could hear their voice of terror. Her favorite was when they would beg her to kill them, to which she always had a clever response. Ramsey enjoyed seeing how broken she could make people before witnessing their last breath. 

Unfortunately, what Ramsey believed was making her more like a Bolton only brought shame to her father. He called her to his office and scolded her. Saying if she wasn’t an embarrassment before, she surely was not. Roose stated that a woman known for torture and savagery would never be married into a respectable house, if into a house at all. He explained a wife was to be caring and nurturing to her children and obedient and respectful to her husbands. 

“If I am to be a wife, I must respect my husband’s traditions and morals,” Ramsey pointed out bitterly, “And I believe I am expressing that skill through flaying. I am showing how important tradition is to me. How flaying is in my history, on my banner.”

“ _ My _ banners,” Roose corrected, “Not yours. You are not a Bolton.” 

Ramsey swallowed her pride, “Of course, my mistake.”

“You may go.” 

That was the last meaningful interaction Ramsey had before leaving Dreadfort on personal business. She did not tell people details of where she was going, only that she was to meet a man. Roose didn’t care, believing the sooner she was off of his hands the better. The days he spent knowing Ramsey was away were days spent in bliss.  But then arrived the news that Roose’s one trueborn child, Domeric, had passed away. He did not weep, he did not mourn. The two barely knew each other; The young Bolton had lived with his aunt for four years, then in the Vale as a squire for three more. Roose only had a few days after the news before Ramsey returned.

When told the situation, Ramsey acted shocked and saddened. She explained, while glancing to her father, how she only recently met her half brother while on her journey. Ramsey claimed they had agreed to make efforts to stay in contact, to strengthen their bond. She went on to say her half brother welcomed her into his home with opened arms. “A good and honest man,” she disheartening recalled. But when Roose was finally alone with his bastard, he spent no time dancing around what everyone suspected. 

“You had something to do with Domeric’s death, didn’t you?” His tone wasn’t angry.

Ramsey didn’t bother putting on an act for her unimpressed father. She spoke with hinted amusement, “I’m hurt you think I’d be capable of such a tasteless act.”

“You think you’re clever.”

“Oftentimes, yes.”

Roose sighed, that often symbolizes the conversation was coming to an end, but he wasn’t leaving satisfied, “If you want to prove yourself so badly, I’ll give you a task I think even you could manage.”

Ramsey straightened up, both fear and excitement coursing through her veins. She didn’t speak and didn’t react. Only listened while her father gave her a problem the Boltons faced that was yet to be resolved. A situation that Ramsey would eventually solve in her own twisted way. In time, this would turn into the foundation of which Roose’s trust in her and desire for her involvement began.

Ramsey Snow was a bastard born of rape, and she wanted more.

* * *

When Ramsey’s father gave her the order to take back Winterfell from the rogue Greyjoy bitch, she couldn’t have been more excited. She enjoyed her time blowing her horn through the night, knowing of the target’s poor temper and patience. Even though Ramsey couldn’t see her anger, she loved to imagine it. Ramsey found herself wondering what her enemy looked like.

 _A Greyjoy_ , she thought, _so she mustn’t be too bright or pretty._

Not that brains or beauty were important to Ramsay while she tortured. But she much preferred to watch a goddess over a peasant turn to dirt.

Ramsey’s prejudices proved her wrong by the time she finally laid eyes on the passed out Greyjoy. She had already been bound to the cross, and Ramsey went down to the prison to cover her head. A grin crept onto Ramsey’s face as she stared at Theondra. She looked so peaceful.

Ramsey was reminded of a fairy tale her handmaid once told her when she was a child. A knight fell in love with a gorgeous princess. The two loved each other so much that a jealous witch cast a spell on the princess to sleep for a thousand years. The knight was then given the option to stay alive all that time to protect her. But he could not leave her, and monsters would often try to steal her away. The knight agreed. But by the time the princess woke up, she found the room smelled of piss and shit. And when she looked to her handsome protector, she instead found a withered old man with no teeth, frail bones, blinded eyes, and long-greyed hair. He had lived for a thousand years, and by the time she awoke, he had forgotten who she even was.

Ramsey held a chunk of Theondra’s tangled, blonde hair and stroked it gently with her thumb. As she studied Theondra’s physical appearance, she thought over the fairy tale and what it meant to her. The moment passed when she realized her prisoner was bleeding. Ramsey dropped the hair and with the same thumb wiped at the blood. She glanced over Theondra one last time before bagging her head and leaving for the door.

“Pleasant dreams, young kraken,” she said before licking her finger clean.

* * *

Ramsey enjoyed every second she spent with her new pet. Training was harder than she expected, the bitch was holding on much longer than originally anticipated. But that only made the process more delicious for Lady Snow. Though, she had to admit her pet’s escape attempts were growing old. 

“There's only so many times I can send my hounds after you before I just let them rip your face off.” Ramsey tightened the straps on the cross. 

“I’m so kind to you,” Ramsey hummed while turning her back, “Other disobedient and pathetic whores, like yourself, don’t often live after one escape attempt.” She carefully picked the tool that most pleased her. 

“But you!” She whipped around and pointed the knife at the other with a bent elbow and wrist, “My dear Reek, have lived passed your fifth  _ and fine _ attempt.”

Theondra’s head was bowed, long tangled hair covering her face. Ramsey could hear her cries, could imagine her tears. She rolled her eyes before marching closer to grab Theondra’s damaged face. 

“What do you say?” Ramsey’s grip tightened. It hurt Theondra’s sore gums from having teeth pulled. 

“Thank you, my lady,” she whimpered, “You’re so kind.”

Ramsey smiled, an expression Theondra knew to fear. “Great. Now, pick which toe I should cut off?”

* * *

Theondra Greyjoy was always a strong, confident woman. She stood thin and fit. And she spoke to men as if it was their lucky day that she even acknowledged them. Her hair was long and light, something many other girls grew to envy, and complimented her face in every right way. Her beauty was accompanied by great talent. Theondra was skilled with a bow and arrow, her delicate fingers and sharp eyes made it easy. Her shots were always precise and quick. Theondra Greyjoy was a true force to be reckoned with.

But Reek was different, a perfect opposite. She was scrawny and fearful, jumping at every loud noise and constantly shaking. Reek waited for her owner to tell her what to do and where to go. She didn’t speak unless instructed to and understood her place at the bottom. Reek missed a few fingers and toes; moving her joints often resulted in great, lingering pain. Her cheeks were sunken in to pair with her chapped, cut lips. Reek always looked as if she was going to cry but was too dehydrated to do so. Her hair hung loose and most nearly never brushed. And if it was, it was done by her owner’s fingers and never a comb. Reek was a possession, a toy, nothing to respect or acknowledge. 

Through all of their differences, only one was important. Theondra was dead while Ramsey wouldn’t let Reek die. The two lived the same lives just at different times. Shared the same body but in contrasting forms.

Reek was just thankful she rarely had to face a mirror. Though when she did, it was because Ramsey willed it. She did anything for the one person she loved, Lady Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I have more plots for Ramsey + Reek/Theondra. But I wanna alternate between Ramsey plots and Robbyn plots. So one pairing isn’t more dominant than the other.
> 
> Any comments and Kudos are ALWAYS appreciated! --and any request or ideas are supported!


End file.
